


The Train to The Kingdom

by Anonymous



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Coming Out, Divination, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Falling In Love, Harry has had enough, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, M/M, Minor Character Death, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Patronus, Quidditch, Romance, Sassy Harry Potter, Slow Burn, Trelawney predictions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-05 21:45:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11586813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: In a hidden alcove of the corridor, a pale figure watched as Harry Potter vanished beneath the infamous cloak, his chest frozen in shock from what he’d witnessed.“You’ll love him more than anything” the hidden figure breathed in wonder.Oh Draco definitely had dirt on Potter now.





	1. The End

**Author's Note:**

> Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling. Title from Nick Cave's song 'O Children.'

Harry brushed his hand through her hair, dark red in the shadows and silver in the starlight, and looked into Ginny’s warm brown eyes. She smiled sadly but fondly up at him.

He felt a lump clawing its way up his oesophagus and making his eyes burn. They were at the end. It was a mutual decision, free of shouting or heartbreak, but it was still a painful and tender moment.

Harry loved Ginny, but they both know he didn’t love her like that. He couldn’t love her like that.

Harry pressed his forehead against hers. The moment seemed to swell and shimmer in one last acknowledgement of what they had had together, and what they had not.

“I’m sorry”, he whispered. Ginny drew back and shook her head as if to say ‘it’s not your fault’. And it wasn’t. But he was still sorry.

She breathed out a long sigh that sounded harsh in the stillness of the empty corridor. It was way past curfew but Harry’s invisibility cloak had led them to seclusion and would get them back to their dormitories with no one the wiser.

“Harry.” Her eyes shimmered but she looked more relaxed than she had for ages. It was just like Ginny to be steadfast in the face of change and loss. “You’ll find someone.”  
Harry’s lips pulled up at one side, a mixture of a smirk and a grimace. Ginny rolled her eyes at his scepticism and cupped his cheeks firmly.

“You’ll find someone, and you will love him” she stumbled on the last word briefly but her eyes were hard and determined. “You’ll love him more than anything.”  
Harry meant to say thank you and that she would find someone too, but his lips didn’t move as he gazed back at her. Ginny smiled knowingly and tilted his head down to lay a soft peck on his cheek.

She melted away, throwing her long red hair over her shoulder. He heard her mutter a disillusionment charm and then she was off, just a ripple of movement down the corridor as he sagged against the wall.

Of course she wouldn’t want him to walk her back to the Gryffindor dormitory.

This corridor, the burning torches, the snoring portraits and the moonlight glistening on the rebuilt stones of Hogwarts; was the end of the road.  
Tomorrow Ginny would be laughing and teasing and grinning just as usual, but there would be no kisses or a hand in his own.

And that was how it should be, Harry thought. He needed kisses that felt like thunder and lightning, not like warmth and camaraderie. He’d had a hand that was soft and small, but he needed a large hand that anchored him and made his stomach flutter.

He pushed away from the wall and headed to the eighth year dormitories for his first night back at Hogwarts, invisibility cloak gripped in his hand. He needed something entirely new.

Harry knew that now, even if he hadn’t known it before.

In a hidden alcove of the corridor, a pale figure watched as Harry Potter vanished beneath the infamous cloak, his chest frozen in shock from what he’d witnessed.

“You’ll love him more than anything” the hidden figure breathed in wonder.

Oh Draco definitely had dirt on Potter now.


	2. The Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malfoy attempts to expose Harry's secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling. Title from Nick Cave's song 'O Children.'

Harry had tried blaming the lack of passion between Ginny and him on his nightmares. Or the heavy layer of silence that would permeate ‘The Burrow’ at unexpected moments. Or the sobs that would rack through Mrs Weasley, strong enough that Harry was afraid they would tear her apart. Or Percy’s red rimmed eyes and George’s lengthy absences.

But through all that grief, Harry’s two best friends had found solace in each other’s arms, in their love for one another. It had occurred to Harry that he just didn’t have that with Ginny. It took him a little while longer to admit why. Ginny’s eyes were sad but unsurprised when he began to break their kisses off early and never initiated them himself. She had known. She’d told him that she had known for a while.

On the Hogwarts express Ginny stopped him as he made to follow Ron and Neville into a compartment. Her grasp on his wrist was urgent. She told him to meet her at the Fat Lady’s portrait at ten that night.

Harry lay in bed the next morning, single and ready to bat for the right team this time, so to speak. He propped himself up on his elbows, slipped his glasses onto his face and looked around the eighth year boys dormitory. He blinked away the lingering sleep from his eyes and mussed up his hair into its usual crow’s nest.

Harry felt like accepting his sexuality had caused a shift in dynamics for a few of his friendships. Except Ron’s of course. It wouldn’t matter if Harry’s sexuality was confined to long-faced freckly red-heads. He would only ever be able to see Ron as a friend.

He began to pull on his Hogwarts uniform, chucking his robe in his satchel bag and draping his school tie over his neck. The finished product looked like he’d been cornered in a broom cupboard but Harry found he didn’t much care. The wizarding World thought too much of him already and he wasn’t about to start dressing impeccably for them.

He went to their shared bathroom to clean his teeth and wash his face, wondering if he was going to be single for the rest of the year. Or even longer.

There were eleven other boys who had returned for eighth year, all roomed in together in one long coffee coloured room. It was decorated with paintings of green pastures and medieval seaports that filled the room with the sound of waves slapping over ship hulls and the muffled clacking of boots on wooden docks.

Morag MacDougal and Terry Boot from Ravenclaw, Ernie Macmillan, Ron, Neville, Seamus, Dean, Blaise Zabini and, Harry spat his toothpaste into the sink, mouth twisted in a grimace, Malfoy, all shared the room with Harry.

But Malfoy wasn’t there, not when Harry went to sleep and not even now at six am in the morning. Though his sheets were slightly more crinkled than yesterday and there was a faint impression on his pillow. Harry thought it wasn’t really a shame at all that he and Malfoy had been denied the opportunity to wish each other goodnight. Harry snorted at the thought. Whoever had placed Malfoy’s bed to the left of his, had to be plotting Britain’s next Wizarding War.

He exited the bathroom, eyes narrowed on Malfoy’s bed and sighed aloud when he realised his classmates were still asleep. Standing there, it dawned on Harry that all of them were straight or at least as in the closet as he was. He wasn’t even sure that he would date any of them if they weren’t. The Gryffindor boys were all his friends, Ernie was not at all his type and neither were the Ravenclaws, though he could admit that Morag’s wide brown eyes were quite endearing. But then it occurred to him it might be because they reminded him of Ginny’s, so he shut down that thought as soon as possible.

Actually, the most attractive boy in the dormitory… was Zabini.

Harry shuddered, and on that note crossed the room to where Ron’s snores shook his bedframe with their strength.

*

It was the beginning of a new era, Harry thought as McGonagall finalised Ron’s new class timetable. For the first time in years, his and Ron’s timetables would not be identical. Luna Lovegood had cornered them on their way to breakfast to inform them that seventh years would share half their classes with sixth years and the other half with eighth years. Ron and Harry swore to sign up for either Astrology or Divination to be in a class with her. But Ron had broken that promise pretty much straight away and Harry was left to fulfil it alone.

With a regretful sigh he asked McGonagall if he could fit in Divination. Her eyebrows crept up at that, but she informed him crisply that Trelawney’s seventh/eighth year class had _plenty_ of free spots.

“Are you sure Potter?” McGonagall checked. “You don’t need Divination to be an Auror.”

Harry detested Divination but he’d already slotted Herbology in place of Astrology. And Luna was smiling dreamily at him from the Ravenclaw table. Her expression reminded Harry of the paint-rendered depictions of himself, Ron, Hermione, Neville and Ginny on the ceiling of Luna’s room. Harry nodded towards the Headmistress firmly.

“Well that’s that then Potter” McGonagall said, in a tone of voice that implied he’d just dug his own grave. Mind you, Trelawney would probably be recommending he do just that, with all the deathly predictions she was bound to make for him.

“Mate you are going to regret that” Ron shook his head.

“Harry it does seem like a waste of your time” Hermione said. She opened her newspaper without looking at him. “You could still call McGonagall back. You have no obligation to Luna to do a subject you don’t need.”

“What, like Ron has no obligation to do History of Magic with you?” Harry pointed out and watched as Ron’s ears turned red. Served the traitor right.

Hermione seemed unconcerned with his light accusation. “Maybe you do need Divination.” She flipped a page of the Daily Prophet. “You could do with some extra sleep.”

Harry grunted and sipped his Pumpkin juice. It was likely that he would catch a few extra winks in Divination.

“Ha! Harry, did you know that all students who were on You-Know-Who’s side are only back on the condition that they have to do Muggle Studies?” Ron chuckled. “Bet Malfoy will love that.”

Harry put down his pumpkin juice and looked over to the sparsely filled Slytherin table. He spotted a dishevelled looking Malfoy staring gloomily at his timetable. His platinum hair lacked the lustre and shine of its past, sitting uncombed and in a disarray. His face was so pale that Harry wondered if the Slytherin had seen the light of day in months. He looked like he was fading at the same rate as Harry’s scar.

But without the sneer distorting his features, Malfoy looked…better. With a lurch of his stomach Harry realised that Zabini was not the only fit boy in their dorm. Harry kept his face set in stone as he let that revelation sink in. But it was Malfoy. Petty, snobby, blood- purist Malfoy. Harry spent the rest of breakfast carefully burying his attraction for Malfoy under the layers of their hateful past.

By the time Harry, Hermione and Ron were making their way to Charms, Harry felt once again neutral about Malfoy. Malfoy wasn’t his enemy anymore.

He wasn’t really anything to Harry.

Malfoy was already waiting outside of Charms when Harry and his friends arrived. An ugly sneer turned his refined features into a mask of spitefulness and Harry welcomed the familiarity of the sight. It lacked his usual smugness but the message was clear; Draco Malfoy still hated Harry Potter. And Harry could work with that.

But when Malfoy’s sneer morphed into a knowing little smirk and his eyes darted from Harry to a group of seventh years and back again, he felt a sense of foreboding. A swish of bright red hair within the group drew his attention away from Draco and Harry felt his stomach sink when he saw the object of Malfoy’s apparent amusement. Harry watched as Ginny smirked her way through a funny story she told the group of admiring seventh years as she mock-swished her wand.

Why was Malfoy looking between them and smirking? He couldn’t know could he? That they had broken up? Harry didn’t care if it got around that they split but he wasn’t quite ready for people to know _why_ they had.

Harry shook his head. Malfoy couldn’t know. But then again, Malfoy’s bed had been empty when Harry snuck back into the dormitories. Could the Slytherin have followed him and seen everything?

He gritted his teeth. It wouldn’t be a surprise if Malfoy stuck his pointy nose in Harry’s business in an attempt to find out something scandalous about The Chosen One. It was getting easier and easier by the second to forget that Malfoy was attractive. He was still a massive git after all.

When Harry, Ron and Hermione drew up to the classroom door, a pleased-looking Luna skipped away from Ginny’s group and smiled up at them dreamily.

“How did you know that first class Charms was with the seventh years?” Luna asked.

Harry certainly hadn’t known and had gone to the trouble of signing up for Divination to be in a class with Luna. He was definitely going to be sleeping in Trelawney’s class now, something that he probably wouldn’t get away with if the professor was Firenze.

“Uh…” Harry said intelligently.

“Ginny” Ron blurted. “Ginny got her timetable before us and told us to sign up for first line Charms rather than third line.” That was a lie but Luna beamed at them anyways and proceeded to chauffeur them towards Ginny’s group with a story of the wild Hinkypunks that she’d almost caught over the summer.

A group of Ravenclaw seventh years tittered as Harry went to pass them, hiding giggles behind their hands. Harry barely noticed a low snort beneath the high tones of breathy laughter and sighs, as he tried to navigate past the gaggle of girls. There was a suspicious amount of hands that seemed to linger on his arms and sides.

Out of the corner of his eyes he saw a pale hand twitch and a silver whip of energy coil out from the wand it held.

Hermione gasped behind him and shot up a Protego as she too quickly emerged from the group of Ravenclaw’s, Ron stumbling out behind her. But the whip shot out low, beneath Hermione’s shield and wrapped around Harry’s right ankle. His eyes widened but it was already too late. A sharp tug and he was on the floor with Malfoy towering over him.

The whip coiled itself back around Malfoy’s thin wrist like a loving snake, before dissolving into his wand.

Faces crowded around his vision, clustering to get a glimpse of Harry’s ungainly sprawl. The contents of his bag were strewn across the same stones that ground into Harry’s elbow. Blood blossomed beneath the white cotton of his school shirt, the exact shade of his Gryffindor, red-striped tie.

Ginny’s group joined the faces above him and Malfoy’s glinting eyes swivelled once again from Ginny to Harry. It didn’t go unnoticed by Ginny and her eyes widened in fearful understanding.

“Malfoy, you don’t need to do this”, Hermione warned, having pieced together the way Malfoy’s eyes darted between her boyfriend’s sister and Harry. Ginny must have confided in her over the summer. Harry had _not_ confided in Ron.

Malfoy raised a pale eyebrow. “I was just wondering how the single life was suiting our Saviour.”

Whispers broke out around them as a thoroughly confused Ron helped Harry to his feet. Harry tried to hide his shaking even as his mind screamed _he knows, oh god he knows_.

“Harry’s dating Ginny” Ron said firmly and Harry’s blood went cold. He didn’t want Ron to find out like this. Ginny stepped forward, eyes on Malfoy.

“Harry and I broke up.” The whispers shifted and weaved, questions arising immediately. Ron gave Harry a bewildered look and Harry avoided his gaze. “And it’s no one’s business why” Ginny shot a glare over her shoulder at the twenty or so students around them.

“Malfoy” Harry finally got out. His voice shook more than he would have liked it to. Malfoy searched his face and Harry held his breath. Malfoy shuddered almost imperceptibly but then the smirk was back and Harry knew he had no chance.

“But Saint Potter has a secret” Malfoy whispered loud and clear, moving past an irate Ginny as he paced forwards slowly. Ron growled beside him and stepped forward as if to intervene. Malfoy stopped when he saw the movement and grinned darkly.

He looked pointedly from Ron to Harry. “Not as single as I thought then”. Ron’s face scrunched up in confusion. “Got yourself a boyfriend to defend you already Potter?” Malfoy smirked, his skin straining against the bones of his face. “From one weasel to the next?”

It wasn’t enough for people to join the dots yet but Harry felt the moment of truth was drawing nearer.

But then Luna floated through the circle in complete ignorance of the drama unfolding within. “Morning Professor Flitwick” she said cheerfully.

As one the class fumbled with bag straps and robes, quickly breaking the form of the circle as they headed towards where Flitwick was entering the Charms room with Luna. Thankfully a large pile of textbooks was obscuring his vision.

Harry let himself be dragged in by a fuming Ginny and sent an apologetic look to Ron. His friend, whose hand was intertwined with Hermione’s, seemed to be in a state of shock. But then his eyes slid past to lock onto Malfoy’s grey and ominous gaze and Harry knew that this wasn’t the end of their little rivalry.

It was just the beginning.


	3. The First Move

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm gay" - (Harry Potter on more than one occasion)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling. Title from Nick Cave's song 'O Children.'

Charms had been tense and quiet but Harry found himself being acquainted with a whole new definition of tense and quiet as he and Ron made their way to Herbology. Dean and Neville had gone on ahead and occasionally shot back concerned and curious glances.

When they had almost made it to the greenhouses, Ron, who looked deep in thought, came to a sudden stop. Harry gripped his satchel strap tight as he turned to look at his best friend in the world, and the older brother of his ex-girlfriend.

“You broke up.” It wasn’t a question so Harry didn’t reply. Ron chewed his lip and lifted his head. “I knew you weren’t happy together…but I guess”, Ron flailed his hand and settled on tugging at his bright red hair. “I guess I still hoped…”

Harry looked down and nodded. He had hoped too. Hoped that Ginny was the one. And oh how wrong he’d been.

“May I ask why?”

_No. No you can’t._ But Harry found himself nodding his head. _Please don’t._

Ron waited a second but Harry’s throat went dry and he didn’t say a word. Ron looked more concerned than before.

“Why Harry?” Ron asked uncharacteristically softly. Harry’s heart pounded in his chest and he felt his legs go numb. Ron seemed to sense his turmoil and in a rare moment of tactfulness, reached out his arm to grip firmly at Harry’s shoulder.

Harry took a deep breath. “Uh…” he cleared his throat. He didn’t know why he was so terrified. Ron wouldn’t care. Would he? No. “I, uh- have to tell you something Ron. I realised something about myself.”

Ron nodded slowly but his hand shook on Harry’s shoulder, as if scared on Harry’s behalf.

“I’m. I’m gay.”

Silence.

The forbidden forest rustled and creaked behind them, the greenhouse door slammed shut and still Ron stood there, saying absolutely nothing. But then he did speak and his words were like a punch to Harry’s gut.

“Are you joking?”

Harry’s insides shrivelled in mortification. Not his best friend. He couldn’t lose his best friend. He felt his throat burning even as he tore away from Ron’s grip, humiliation turning into anger. A hand on his arm spun him around before he could take more than a few steps and then he was face to face with Ron again.

Ron looked sick and it made Harry feel like crawling into a hole and dying. “Harry”, he rasped out desperately “Harry I don’t care.” And then Ron was pulling Harry into his arms. Life rushed back into Harry’s lungs and made him feel lightheaded as his fear-weakened arms lifted to encircle his best friend. “I don’t care” Ron said fiercely. “I’m just not good at this stuff Harry.”

He drew back and looked at Harry, floundering for words. “I just-I wasn’t sure if you were having me on-and I-I’m sorry-” Harry raised his hand and smiled at his friend.

“I know”, he said. Ron sagged with relief and Harry hugged him once again, quick and tight before drawing back and coughing. He and Ron looked at each other awkwardly for a few seconds before Harry gestured to Greenhouse two.

“C’mon. We’re late for Herbology.”

Harry felt relief pumping through his system and lifting his spirits exponentially as he and Ron hurried towards the greenhouses. Professor Sprout pretended not to notice when they slipped inside during her introduction of a dangerous Boa-Constrictor vine and Harry’s mood soared even higher. Not even wrangling a rabid vine into its pot could dissipate Harry’s good mood. Nor did the whispering and constant attention at lunch and by the time he was making his way to Divination, he was feeling positively optimistic about the whole coming out of the closet thing. Ron didn’t care!

Harry let himself grin at that fact as he climbed up another winding staircase. Ginny had cared for obvious reasons but she had moved past it eventually. Hermione had probably already guessed and wouldn’t care. Luna probably wouldn’t bat an eyelid at it.

He tested that theory as soon as he saw a pair of dangling radishes and long blonde hair.

“Luna” Harry leant forward and whispered quietly. There was only one other person waiting outside the Divination trapdoor and she was fervently reading a textbook titled ‘The Mystical Inner Eye’.

Luna “hmmed?” and tucked a length of hair behind her ear absent-mindedly.

“I’m gay.” Harry grinned when predictably Luna’s protruding eyeballs remained glossy and unblinking.

“Yes Harry and grass is green” she said simply. Harry frowned at that.

“Was I that obvious?” he wondered aloud.

Luna shook her head thoughtfully. “No Harry, I thought we were just sharing information?”

Harry stared back at her, searching for any sign that she wasn’t serious. She gazed back imploringly, radishes a ’swinging.

“Luna. I already knew grass was green” Harry said flatly.

Luna’s expression turned to thoughtfulness once again. “Did you know that Draco Malfoy is gay too?” Luna asked curiously.

Luna may as well have pushed Harry down the staircase for the way his world seemed to spin on its axis. His mouth hung open in a fly-catching gape. Malfoy? Gay? Luna looked pleased to have shocked Harry speechless. She leant forwards conspiratorially as three more students joined their sad little Divination huddle.

“The nargles told me” she whispered and Harry came hurdling back down to earth. Oh.

“Not directly of course” Luna continued as Harry shook his head, cursing his own gullibility. “They dance a certain way you see, when someone feels attraction. Draco’s nargles dance when he looks at Blaise sometimes. But mostly when he looks at you.”

Harry didn’t dare believe any of her nargle nonsense but he nodded along anyway. Relief flooded him when the trapdoor finally slid open and a ladder was lowered haphazardly through it. All seven of them, including a recently arrived Morag MacDougal, made it up the rickety ladder, and entered the hazy looking classroom.

“Your numbers have decreased” Professor Trelawney declared dramatically. “But I sense a higher concentration of potential”, she swirled her hands before her, “for the sight!”

Harry rolled his eyes and followed Luna to one of the round little tables, settling comfortably on a paisley pink puff.

“A shame, a real shame” Trelawney said almost regretfully. “At this point in your study of Divination I usually lend a crystal ball to each student so they can train the inner eye daily. But” she let out a wavering sigh, “there are not enough left.”

Harry vaguely remembered seeing a wildly cackling Trelawney pelt Death Eaters with her crystal balls during the battle at Hogwarts and privately thought that that was a much better use for them.

Harry was one of three boys in the classroom and he suspected that Morag had come there with the same intentions as himself, when he blatantly drew another puff towards him and settled down for a nap.

The other boy, who was with two of his fellow, chilled out looking seventh years, had long blonde dreads and a face stuck in a painful looking smoulder. He would have been cute if he didn’t have such a permanent expression and Harry found that the dreads were sort of a turn off as well.

After reading tea leaves for half an hour, Harry was about ready to wack himself over the head with Mandy Pierce’s ‘The Mystical Inner Eye.’ Luna’s prediction that he would run off with a sexy, Brazilian wizard and live out the rest of his life in Columbia wasn’t sounding half bad either.

Trelawney’s important sounding cough interrupted that train of thought and Harry sat up straighter in an attempt to look more awake.

“This year, you will all be keeping a dream journal!” When several groans arose, she flailed her beaded wrists and announced spookily “but this won’t be homework, no, I have a spell!” Trelawney hefted a large tome into her arms and flicked open to a page she had bookmarked with a long silver ribbon. “All I have to do is lay the incantations, and all your dreams will be recorded in journals as soon as you enter the Divination chambers!”

Harry felt his stomach drop. Nightmares of howling screams, rattling gasps and pools of blood, of a pair of slitted red eyes, a wall blasting into a stocky red-headed boy and a blast of green light, recorded in a journal? For anyone to read? Indignation rose in his throat. What was Trelawney thinking?

When the class ended, Harry ushered Luna ahead of him and told her that he would catch up later. When a bleary-eyed Morag finally left through the trapdoor Harry spun on his heels towards the Divination professor.

She was already looking at him, eyes wide behind her glitz encrusted glasses and hands clasped together expectantly. “Mr Potter?”

“My dreams are private, Professor” he said, tone even but firm.

Trelawney seemed to deflate a bit but eventually nodded. “There is another spell. It won’t record your dreams in detail in relation to imagery or events. Instead it will just record the emotions of the dream. Of course, lacking context, this method is far less useful for the art of Divination but if you want to pass?” she ventured, brow raised.

Harry huffed and weighed his options. No, he didn’t care about passing. No, he didn’t want to disappoint Luna. Yes, his emotions were private too but if they couldn’t be linked to the source of his troubles?

“Fine” Harry said.

Trelawney beamed at him as if he had handed her the sun. “You are going to live a long and rewarding life Harry Potter” she proclaimed as he turned away from her.

Harry paused with his foot on a rung of the ladder. “Yes, my Brazilian husband and I are going to be very happy together I hear.” And with that he left, Trelawney still gaping at where he had disappeared down the trapdoor.

*

Throughout potions, Harry waited for Malfoy to make a move. Shout it to the heavens that Harry was gay. Do an interpretive dance about the Saviour being a raging homosexual. Anything! But Malfoy ignored him for the most part. Either way, now that his most important friends knew and accepted him still, Harry didn’t give a toss what anyone else thought.

He had drawn Hermione aside before class to tell her himself before she could hear it from Ron. She’d been pleased but entirely unsurprised. She was the last box Harry had to check before he didn’t care who else found out.

Now it was just a waiting game.

But as potions ended without incident and the eighth years and Slytherin/Hufflepuff seventh years all left the room, Harry began to grow tense. He preferred confrontation. He wanted the drama to be over and done with already, but he supposed Malfoy would enjoy playing with his food before he ate it.

Harry’s eyes were drawn to the Slytherin table many times over dinner, but Malfoy was as cool as a cucumber, chatting with Blaise without a hint that he might be planning something.

After a heated game of exploding snap in the common room that night, Harry felt exhausted.

It had been a while since he’d had a set routine and was under the scrutiny of hordes of admiring Saviour fans. People had charmed love letters to fly into his trouser pockets and by the end of the day he’d had to check with his friends if it was Valentine’s Day with the amount of chocolates he’d received.

Hermione assured him that the attention would die down as the school term went on. He hoped she was right.

So, exhausted, Harry excused himself from the lavender furnished common room and traipsed up the stairs to the boy’s dormitory. When he opened the door to the dormitory he halted. Malfoy was on his bed, reading a textbook.

He didn’t look up so Harry cautiously slid inside.

“Afraid Potter?” Malfoy said silkily, still looking at his book. “Shouldn’t I be the one afraid of you?”

Harry glared at Malfoy. Yes, he thought, Malfoy should be _very_ afraid.

“Afraid that you might jump me Potter? I am a fine specimen” Malfoy gestured to himself. “It wouldn’t be surprising if you want to.”

“You wish Malfoy” Harry snorted.

Malfoy smirked and didn’t say anything back. This made Harry’s stomach bubble uneasily. A smirking Malfoy was a Malfoy with a plan. An evil plan.

Harry grabbed all his essentials for a shower and exited the room swiftly, feeling on edge.

He washed his hair quickly but dallied in the water, not wanting the hot, steamy flow to stop. He tried to imagine what humiliation Malfoy could be planning for him. He knew Malfoy wouldn’t be able to resort to violence. His welcome at Hogwarts was unstable at best. No, Malfoy was playing a very dangerous game.

Finally, Harry said goodbye to the warmth of his shower and stepped out of the cubicle, towel around his waist. His hair was plastered to his scalp and he set to it with a spare towel immediately. After five minutes of vigorous rubbing, his hair, oddly enough was still lying flat on his head. He ran his hand over his scalp, attempting to thread his fingers through it. It was like trying to thread your fingers through steel. Harry began to panic, and groped for his glasses on the bench as he rubbed away the condensation from the mirror. His hand found nothing and Harry was shocked to the core when his vision began to clear, without the aid of his glasses. What he saw in the mirror made his heart stop in his chest.

This had to be Malfoy’s doing.


	4. The Slytherin Princesses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very angry Slytherin Princess plots her revenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling. Title from Nick Cave's song 'O Children.'  
> 

“Malfoy”, Harry growled under his breath, scrabbling for something more decent than a towel to wear. He caught sight of his glasses on the bathroom mat and couldn’t even be grateful for the fact he didn’t need them right now.

What Malfoy did to him was much worse than having to wear glasses.

His hair was reminiscent of Malfoy’s, back when he used to gel it down flat. There wasn’t a single raven strand out of place. Harry’s face on the other hand, was almost completely normal- if you were to ignore the fact that each of his eyelashes seemed to have spawned another one next to it, so he ended up with ridiculously thick, girlish looking eyelashes. His dark eyebrows appeared to have refined and sculpted themselves.

The worst thing, by far, was the glitter.

Emerald glitter, the same shade as his eyes, coated his eyelids and dusted across the tops of his cheekbones.

_Malfoy. Was. Dead._

He stormed out of the bathroom, black pyjama pants chucked on haphazardly. Malfoy had just enough time to spot a bedazzled and furious looking Harry Potter before the door was shouldered open by Neville, Ron two steps behind him.

Neville turned to greet Harry as soon as he noticed him and there was a horrible moment where Harry could see what was going to happen, and could do nothing to stop it. Neville tripped, legs flailing and mouth gaping in horror at the sight of Harry. Ron who had tried to prevent his fall by grabbing onto Neville, was yanked to the floor as well.

“Nev you clumsy git, what was that?” Ron wheezed.

“That” Harry enunciated carefully, “was _Malfoy’s_ fault.”

Ron rolled over on the floor to squint at a speechless, pale Malfoy. “Malfoy tripped you did he, Neville?”

“Uh…” Neville seemed stumped.

“Indirectly.” Harry said, arms crossed over his still shower-damp chest. Ron finally looked over at Harry, mouth poised on a question. He stopped. Harry could almost see the cogs in Ron’s head trying to turn and failing miserably. Ron opened his mouth soundlessly.

Harry turned his furious gaze on Malfoy, giving up on Ron. For a split second Malfoy looked as frozen as Ron, eyes wide and staring. Then the next moment, Harry could have been imagining it. Malfoy flipped a cosmetic tube in the air before catching it again, book forgotten at his side.

He turned the large tube so that the front faced Harry. There was a repetitive sequence playing out. A young woman with ugly spectacles flung her glasses in the air and smoothed a cream over her head under a flow of water. She spun on the spot and then her blonde hair was as sleek as a seal’s, skin clear and lashes thickened. And then it repeated again. She sported the same ridiculous glitter as Harry and when she spotted him she gave him an excited thumbs up and a wink before repeating her sequence again.

The label above her read ‘ _Shower & Glam-up, all at once!’ _The label below her said- Harry’s jaw tightened- ‘ _Slytherin Princess Edition’_.

It was obvious what Malfoy did, and easily at that. Seriously who had placed Harry’s bed next to Malfoy? All his personal items and care cosmetics were in proximity to him!

Harry batted away Ron, who was squinting at Harry’s bare forehead and trying to turn him to look closer. “Ron, it’s really me” Harry snapped.

“Can I just?” Ron whispered with a finger held up and ready to poke. Harry sighed and nodded. Ron traced Harry’s almost colourless scar with his finger and whimpered.

“Neville, it’s really him” Ron reported weakly to Neville. Neville nodded sympathetically, shoulder’s shaking with laughter. Looks like he recovered quickly, Harry thought sourly.

Harry turned back to Malfoy, deceptively calm. “How long will it last?”

Malfoy frowned, than checked the packet, eyes curious. “Oh Merlin, this stuff is high end…” his voice was slightly breathy and Harry wondered if he’d been laughing silently like Neville. But his voice held no trace of amusement.

Harry’s stomach sunk. He’d been hoping for an hour maybe? But Malfoy’s almost apprehensive face said otherwise. “How long?” Harry said carefully.

“A week.”

“What was that?” Harry said as sweetly as poisoned apple.

“No, I’m kidding” Malfoy’s lips twitched “two days.”

“Two days.” Harry sat down on his bed hard and looked blankly at a slack-jawed Ron. Neville lifted his shoulders and shook his head, though his low, rumbling chuckle gave him away.

Ron abruptly raised his wand to Harry’s face. Harry flinched, automatically reaching for his but Ron held the wand steady. “ _Scourgify”_ he said with confidence. Harry felt a cool breeze and a tingle and reached his hands up to his face. He let out a gush of relief when he couldn’t feel the texture of glitter along his cheekbones and eyelids.

But Ron shook his head when Harry went to thank him. _“Revelio”_ he swished his wand. _“Finite Incantatum._ Harry, mate, I’m sorry, it’s still there. It’s like a glamour or something. _”_

“It’s not” this from Malfoy, who didn’t sound scared enough to Harry. Harry was going to make him scared. Very scared. He just had to bide his time.

Ron ignored Malfoy. He prodded Harry’s face. _“Oculus Revelio.”_

“My glasses aren’t invisible, they’re in the bathroom.”

“And you can see?” Incredulity.

“Yeah.” Harry racked his brains. “Hermione around?”

“Library” Ron said grimly.

There was nothing for it. Harry shrugged at the room at large and flopped into bed. His hair felt like a helmet with how solidly it melded to his scalp. “Goodnight then”, he forced out.

Ron grunted in return and shot Malfoy a scathing look. He and Neville traipsed off to the bathroom for their showers, vowing to each other to leave the cubicle Harry had used, well alone.

Harry waited until they were gone before rolling towards his left, where Malfoy looked intensely at his book, eyes not moving. A few years ago Malfoy would have been gloating by this point, but a lot had changed since then.

Harry wondered what exactly had changed to make Malfoy afraid of meeting his eyes, even after Malfoy had made a fool of Harry.

“Are you sorry?” Harry asked, with genuine curiosity along with accusation in his tone.

Malfoy slowly shook his head, eyes on his book. “I don’t think so.” He voice was hard and he sounded sincere.

Harry snorted softly and rolled back over, to block out the world and the thought of his imminent, glittery doom. Harry smirked to himself. Even if pigs flew and Malfoy had apologised profusely, Harry would still have paid him back dearly.

But a non-repentant Malfoy? He wouldn’t know Harry’s revenge until it hit him in the face.

*

_A millions laughs echoed around him as Harry spun on the spot, futilely attempting to break through the glittery, green bubble that encased him. An invisible face indented the bubble from the outside, leaning in closer to Harry. It looked like Voldemort. Harry fought to quell a gurgling scream. “I killed you”, he shouted silently. The impression of Voldemort’s face upon his bubble simpered at him mockingly and hissed. “A Slytherin at heart Potter? I always thought we were very alike…”_

_The face disappeared and a girl stepped through the bubble. Somehow the face and the girl were the same being, though the girl just gave him a thumbs up and winked. Her long-blonde hair was plastered to her head and emerald glitter covered her from head to toe._

_“Two days?!” she shrieked, her voice suddenly masculine and her body that of a chicken’s._

“Serves you right for stealing Harry’s shampoo.”

Someone groaned helplessly in return.

Harry’s brow furrowed and he came to, slowly. He attempted to ruffle his hair but found a helmet there instead. He frowned. Harry opened his eyes blearily to find two figures in his line of view, arguing at the entrance to the shared bathroom.

Ron was giving an entirely unremorseful look to an impassioned and very glamorous looking girl. The girl fluttered her enormous eyelashes and pouted, her short, russet blonde hair clinging to her thick neck.

It was then that it occurred to Harry that she wasn’t a girl at all.

She was Ernie Macmillan.

“I don’t want to be a Slytherin Princess for two days!” he yelped. “I wouldn’t even want to be a Hufflepuff princess!”

“But gold glitter would suit you so much Ernie!” Seamus cackled from inside the bathroom. Snorts followed his statement and Neville came out of the bathroom, toothpaste foaming at his mouth and still snorting wildly, to clap Ernie’s shoulder.

A concerned Morag MacDougal gaped at Ernie over Ron’s shoulder.

“I’m not too thrilled at being a princess either Ernie” Harry slipped out of bed to lean against his bedpost and rub at his eyes.

A gaggle of shocked faces blinked at him and Ron winced. “It’s even more intense in the light”, he muttered. Ernie looked at Harry in consternation then spun on a surprised Ron.

“You said that Harry looked ridiculous as well!” he fumed.

Ron looked confused and gestured to Harry with a ‘duh’ face “He does Ernie. Absolutely ridiculous.”

“No. He looks hot!” Ernie accused Ron. Harry stood up straighter and assessed Ernie with new eyes. His heart stuttered in his chest. No one had ever used that word to describe him before. Or at least, never in his presence. Silence met Ernie’s admission and he shrugged.

“Well? He does!” Ernie gestured wildly to Harry.

An echoing thump of limbs and blankets sounded throughout the room and a sheep flinched in its painting before going back to grazing at a pasture, ears twitching. Someone shuffled behind Harry, who was staring at Ernie, a reluctant blush staining his glittered cheeks.

Dean entered the fray, quilt clutched around him still and blinked at Harry a few times before turning to Ernie and nodding. “Yep”, he said simply before turning and propelling himself into the closest bed, which was Ron’s.

“Yep, yep? What on earth does that mean?” Ron spluttered. Seamus came out of the bathroom and looked Harry up and down.

“Y’know, besides the garish glitter, Ernie’s not entirely wrong, Harry. You don’t look half bad” Seamus nodded in thought.

Harry was shocked.

Never before had his male friends so openly complimented him on his appearance. He had been under the impression it was sort of an unspoken rule that that would be stepping over the friend limits.

“Is there anything anyone would like to tell me?”, Ron said warily.

“Err, not really Ron, but everyone else-” Seamus spread his arms wide “- I’m asexual.”

Ron shot Seamus a dirty look while Neville stopped clapping Ernie’s shoulder to start clapping Seamus’ shoulder.

“I’m not” a muffled voice came from a pile of blankets on Ron’s bed. “M’ bisexual.”

Loud and proud. Harry couldn’t help feeling a surge of jealousy towards them both.

Harry tried to imagine himself in Seamus’ or Dean’s position, announcing the truth to a group of his friends, completely casual. But he’d only had the courage to tell his closest friends individually. Harry had wanted to deal with their acceptance or rejection one at a time.

So now the most important of his friends knew and in the grand scheme of things Harry wouldn’t care what the majority thought.

But he hadn’t realised until now, that the boys standing in this room were some of the few people who could break through Harry’s years of experience of being the centre of often negative attention. They had the potential to actually hurt him.

“How come I didn’t know all this?!” Ron threw his arms up in the air.

“Well everyone knows I’m gay”, Ernie piped up. They all turned to look at him.

“Well, now we do” Seamus snorted.

“Anyone else have any confessions?” Ron asked angrily, not addressing Harry as he did so. Harry would be forever grateful that he’d already told Ron his secret.

“Straight as a porcupine quill” Neville said, hand over heart.

“What he said”, Morag nodded to Neville when Ron rounded on him, as if the ginger was entitled to everyone’s sexual identities. The contrast in behaviour to when Harry had come out to Ron, was a testament to how much Ron hated being excluded.

Even from personal secrets.

But Ernie wasn’t paying attention to Ron’s invasive rampage. He was wiping desperately at his face. “When I get my hands on Malfoy”, he seethed and then made an aborted strangling motion.

“That’s not likely” Neville said with a finger pointed somewhere behind Harry.

Harry looked behind him, still getting used to the missing weight of his glasses. Malfoy was fast asleep, a shimmering shield surrounding his bed as he breathed deeply. Behind Malfoy there were three empty beds. Zabini and Boot must have risen early and Morag stood near Ron still, his face beset with discomfort.

“Paranoid bloke” Seamus muttered.

“Don’t worry Ernie”, Harry grinned evilly as he pulled on his uniform, feeling a bit more like he looked. “I already have something planned.”

It was time to embrace his Slytherin side.

Harry looked at the little, glittery, gay Hufflepuff before him and smirked.


	5. Glittered and Glorious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry gets a few more things he definitely doesn't want.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling. Title from Nick Cave's song 'O Children.'

Harry took a deep breath and stepped out of the eighth year dormitory in search of the most knowledgeable person he knew.

Most of Hogwarts was still asleep but Hermione wasn’t in her dorm when he had asked after her. He decided to check the library first, though he doubted even Madame Pince was up yet. He didn’t want to be up yet either but Ernie’s shouting had woken most of the dorm at the crack of dawn and he could feel a pulsing headache coming on. Like an anvil on hammer it rammed through his skull and rattled his aching body.

Malfoy’s stunt with the whip had evidently hurt him more than he’d originally thought.

The hallways were mercifully empty as he strode past statues and tapestries, stumbling down staircases before they could move, in his hurry. He reached a corridor that ended in a T-junction, the right leading to a set of empty classrooms and the left leading eventually to the library. Before he was even halfway down the hall, angling his body to take a sharp left, a door burst open, clipping him on the shoulder.

He hissed and clutched at the tear in his shirt ready to snarl grumpily at whoever had been that careless.

A shocked poltergeist wielding a detached table leg, stared back at him for a few moments and Harry felt his stomach clench in horror.

_Peeves._

Harry tried to march quickly past, face down-turned but a table leg halted his movements.

He gritted his teeth and looked reluctantly at the poltergeist who was now grinning like a shark. Peeves forcibly pressed his grin into a tight lipped smile and sank into a deep bow.

“Milady”, he said, sweeping the table leg away from Harry’s chest in a graceful gesture, as if he were a respectful butler. The evil glint in his eyes said otherwise. Harry started forwards again but Peeves, again, brought the table leg across Harry’s chest.

He saw recognition light up in the small poltergeist’s eyes and Harry desperately pushed past and set off down the hall. The poltergeist followed.

“Do thine eyes deceive me?” Peeves said gleefully. Harry continued down the hallway at a half-walk, half-run, Peeves twirling around him in delight.  “Or is it really ickle, wee Potter? All glammed up?” Peeves tucked his hands under his chin and made gooey eyes at Harry, puckering his lips.

Harry grimaced and clutched his wand tightly, tempted to hex Peeves into oblivion. But peeves just struck a pose before Harry, floating along backwards and tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Ahah!” he declared and launched into a song, merrily kicking his legs as if he was doing an Irish jig.

_“Oh Potter, the snotter-_

_turned Voldy to ashes._

_His fans were a’gape,_

_so he fluttered his lashes._

_Glittered and glorious our Gryffindor hero is he_

_And yet-”_ he held up a waggling finger.

_“It’s Slytherin colours I see!”_

Peeves swooped forwards and put his face in Harry’s to blow a massive raspberry before he disappeared down the hall with a cackle. Harry held his pounding head in his hands and almost forgot why he was down there at the thought of all the humiliation he would have to go through today.

Oh yes. Humiliation. Malfoy.

When Harry entered the Library he immediately spotted a pile of speaking books and rounded the only taken desk to find Hermione muttering over a History of Magic text.

He cleared his throat.

Hermione jumped a mile high and squeaked out, “I have permission”, her textbook clutched protectively to her chest. She slowly opened her eyes when no response came and looked up at Harry.

Her eyebrows rose up an inch at his appearance but she cleared her throat awkwardly and didn’t make a comment. “You’re not Madam Pince” she breathed out. Hermione settled her book back on the desk, looking relieved and turned to Harry. “So what can I help you with?”

Harry frowned at the odd formality of her voice. “I need you” he told her, feeling impatient.

Hermione gaped at him for a second, looking mildly affronted. “I have a boyfriend” she squawked.

“I know. Ron Weasley. Tall guy, red hair. Best friends with Harry Potter” Harry said, almost concerned for Hermione. It was like she was doing Luna’s weird sharing random but obvious facts thing.

“Then why…?” she trailed off looking highly confused. Harry stared at her. She stared back. Then finally it clicked and Harry couldn’t help rolling his eyes.

“Hermione, it’s me. Harry.”

Her mouth dropped open. “I knew you were gay Harry but this, I admit, I did _not_ expect” she said faintly. Harry scowled at her.

“Malfoy” he said meaningfully. Comprehension dawned on Hermione’s face and she nodded looking slightly relieved. “I need you” Harry said again before faintly flushing. “For revenge” he added swiftly.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “What do you want me to do?”

Harry explained his plan and Hermione nodded reluctantly, acceding on the basis that Harry’s revenge was not, technically, harmful. They arrived back in the eighth year tower, ten minutes later, Hermione panting from a stitch in her side. She snapped up suddenly though, eyes locking onto a girl who had just exited the tower. “Oi!” she called after the girl.

The tall brunette turned and quirked her eyebrow at Hermione, briefly sending a strange, but interested nonetheless, look at Harry’s glittery get-up. She turned away from him without a word though. “What?” she said in apparent boredom.

“You’re not an eighth year” Hermione said sharply “what are you doing _here_?”

“And you’re not a prefect anymore, sweetheart” the girl smirked and Hermione bristled in outrage. Harry vaguely recognised the girl as a Gryffindor a few years below them who had sent him a scandalously flirtatious smile over the welcoming feast.

She obviously didn’t recognise him now though, because she turned away from Hermione’s red face and sauntered off without a second glance at Harry. In it for the fame, not the person then, Harry thought grimly as he dragged a seething Hermione up the boy’s staircase. They received a few greetings from a huddle of Harry’s dorm mates in the common room, but they were quick up the staircase and into the room.

Dean was dragging on his uniform at snail-pace, the only conscious person who hadn’t migrated to the common room. Hermione flushed at his state of undress but Harry was entirely use to it, and knew Dean couldn’t give a stuff about anything in the mornings before he’d had his pumpkin juice-pepper up infusion.

Harry was more interested in the figure that lay curled up in a ball, anyways, pale blonde hair fluffy and tousled. He dragged his eyes away from Malfoy and to the neatly folded pile of clothing at the foot of his bed.

“Oh yeah” Dean mumbled, “a girl left you a present on your bed Harry.”

Harry’s attention was abruptly drawn to a huge bouquet of roses, artfully arranged upon his pillow with a letter tucked between the stems of the massive flowers. The letter was purple and lined with fake diamonds. At least, he hope they were fake.

Hermione huffed. “Did she have dark brown hair and blue eyes?”

Dean shrugged “suppose so” he paused to slip his tie on. “She was hot, that’s all I remember.”

Harry carefully unfolded his letter, his stance braced for attack. All that slipped out was a note though.

“She’s a sixth year, Dean, she’s not allowed- Harry why are you opening it?” Hermione appeared at his shoulder, looking down at the letter scornfully. The note was as lilac as the common room furniture downstairs, but Harry could vouch for the fact McGonagall had not decorated the couches with purple love hearts. He couldn’t say the same for the letter he held in his hands though.

Harry only made it through two sickening lines before he balled up the note in his fist and chucked it quickly in the bin.

“Good shot” Hermione said, looking pleased. She turned to the magically enlarged roses and did some quick wand work, ending with a pile of rose-scented shampoo in her arms. “The girls in my dorm will appreciate these” she said before placing them in her cavernous-charmed satchel.

There was an abysmal turn-out for eighth year girls, Millicent Bullstrode being the only Slytherin to return and Hannah Abbot the only Hufflepuff. There was less than a handful of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws. The Gryffindor boys were the largest group to come back for their final year.

Hermione and Harry set to work quickly on the clothes at the foot of Malfoy’s bed, Harry relying heavily on Hermione’s advanced spell-work to complete the task. Dean finally got all his clothes on and left with a yawn, completely uninterested in what they were doing. Harry was worried that Malfoy would wake up any second, which he would do if he wanted more than an hour to get dressed and eat breakfast. But Malfoy was still fast, asleep, brow furrowed as Hermione lay down the final incantations.

The clothing pile looked innocent and entirely unchanged but if Malfoy were to say anything even slightly offensive to anyone while wearing it, it would turn into a riot of sickening colour and bring lots and lots of unwanted attention to Malfoy. Harry smiled, pleased at the outcome.

“I added a few extra spells” Hermione said with a guilty but smug smile. “If he sneers, scowls, smirks, scoffs or snorts-” Harry marvelled at the fact they were all ‘s’ words “-his tie turns rainbow and sighs.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, confused.

“Sighs suggestively, Harry.” She chuckled at the faint blush that coloured his cheeks. He wasn’t sure why he was so surprised. Hermione had, after all, charmed the D.A. sheet to write SNEAK across any betrayer’s forehead and in pimples at that. She’d always been more passive-aggressive than he gave her credit for.

Harry looked again at the sleeping Malfoy and shook his head to clear his mind of…something. _Right then._ This was bound to humiliate the socks off Malfoy, _and_ teach him a lesson. But Harry knew it wasn’t quite enough. Malfoy was a wordsmith and if Harry was going to truly take him down, that’s how he’d have to do it. He had a vague idea how but he would have to wait for the right moment.

The right moment was not during breakfast where spoons clattered to the ground and plates smashed when Harry walked in. It was _not_ during Divination where Trelawney exclaimed upon the green glitter that poured out from Harry’s automatized Dream Journal and publicly pondered over the emotions that had appeared in his dream entry. Hmmm, why was the saviour feeling apprehensive, humiliated, and glittery? Harry just couldn’t figure it out!

And the right moment was most certainly not when Malfoy turned up to Charms, slammed Harry into a wall and pointed his wand at Harry’s heart filled throat.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are lucky I spell-check or you'd be reading a chapter about Harry and Thermionic getting revenge on Malfoy rather than Harry and Hermione. Damn autocorrect. Next Chapter already underway, will be posted tomorrow hopefully :)


	6. The Second Strike

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Malfoy snaps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling. Title from Nick Cave's song 'O Children.'

“How dare you Potter! How _dare_ you.”

Malfoy’s face was an inch away from Harry’s, his voice grating out like a broken bow on a fiddle. Harry watched as colour bloomed along the pale line of Malfoy’s throat and up to his cheeks, his skin turned to an uneven patchwork of snowy-white and angry red.

Harry was not expecting this reaction. He felt his chest flaring up in indignation at the sight of Malfoy’s outrage. Harry had taken Malfoy’s petty prank a thousand times better than Malfoy was taking his. And Harry, unlike Malfoy, was dusted with glitter.

But then again, Harry couldn’t see the riot of colour on Malfoy’s uniform that he’d been expecting. His shirt was crisp white and his tie was the usual Slytherin silver and green.

Despite Harry’s struggle to keep hold of his anger towards Malfoy, he couldn’t help being confused. Wasn’t Malfoy’s reaction a little too intense for what had happened? But Harry kept voice steely as he glared back at Malfoy. “You got what you deserved, Malfoy.”

He could see the circles under Malfoy’s eyes get noticeably ruddier as he applied more pressure on Harry’s throat with his wand. At the same time, his fist in Harry’s shirt pulled tighter, constricting the shirt collar even further.

Harry gasped for breath as Malfoy leaned forward ominously.

“What I deserved?” he uttered darkly, voice stark against the silence buzzing in Harry’s ears. Malfoy tilted his head in mock curiosity. “So I deserved to be reminded? Of the worst years of my life?”

“Wha-”

“Of the pain and the regret” Malfoy’s voice broke, the elegant genuflection of his pure blood speech, well and truly cracked. His eyes shone brighter with tears. Harry felt like he was looking into a bottomless well with how dead Malfoy’s eyes seemed suddenly with their damp lifelessness.

“Of having to watch while he-” Malfoy swallowed looking at, but not really seeing Harry. “While he-” but Malfoy couldn’t continue.

Instead his eyes snapped back to Harry’s with new resolve. He angled his wand under Harry’s chin, forcing it up, grey eyes menacing and pained.

But Harry lowered his head against the pressure of Malfoy’s wand, swallowing the pain so he could be on level with the Slytherin.

He searched Malfoy’s pinched face, the slight tinge of green to his pallor, the snarled mess of his blond hair and the teeth marks along his red-bitten lips. Harry realised he had no _idea_ of what was truly troubling Malfoy.

He was about to tell Malfoy so, when a high pitched cough broke through the din of whispers and fabric brushing along the sides of curious onlookers.

“Mr. Malfoy!” Professor Flitwick squeaked.

Harry finally looked past Malfoy who had released his hold on him slowly before looking at their Charms professor. Behind Malfoy was a knot of Harry’s friends, lowering their arms from where they had been poised at the back of Malfoy’s head. Ron was most reluctant to do so, his hand now floating at his side rather than tucking his wand away.

Harry exchanged a look of confusion with Hermione. What had Malfoy been talking about?

“Mr. Malfoy you already have detention on the weekend from yesterday” Flitwick said plaintively. “I will have to give you another one, unfortunately.”

Harry wondered who had tattled on Malfoy about his whip jinx. He couldn’t think of anyone specific though considering Malfoy had his fair share of enemies.

A dark veil of worry dropped behind Malfoy’s grey regard after Flitwick’s statement, making his eyes look like sockets in his skeletally pale face. His neck, twisted to look at Flitwick, was so close to Harry and he could see the sweat that stuck Malfoy’s still untainted school shirt, to his collarbone.

Malfoy must have kept a relatively low profile up until now if Hermione and Harry’s incantation hadn’t kicked in. He _had_ backed Harry into a hard, stone wall and seethed at him, but he supposed he hadn’t insulted Harry as of yet. Only accused him of something seemingly much worse than Harry had actually done.

Flitwick began ushering gaping students inside his classroom, some staring at Malfoy and some at Harry, a few only having recognised him after Malfoy had growled out _Potter_.

Harry passed through the doorway before Malfoy but he caught Flitwick’s stern whisper to the Slytherin boy.

“You know what the Headmistress said Mr. Malfoy” Flitwick paused. “Don’t let there be a third strike.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I epically underestimated how hectic my week would be... Sorry for the late chapter guys!


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